Warbird
by arachnidjds
Summary: After the events in the movie Serenity, an old war hero decides to take up arms again to overthrow the Alliance superpower. But with the Alliance's new superweapon in development, do the browncoats stand a chance? Still in progress, hoping to publish more every day.


"There's thirty million people, and they just let themselves die. I have to be quick! About a tenth of a percent of the population had the opposite reaction to the Pax. Their aggressor response increased beyond madness. They have become… Well, they've killed most of us. And not just killed… they've done things… I won't live to report this, but people have to know. We meant it for the best... to make people safer."

I sat and watched the footage on my holographic watch. I couldn't believe my eyes. The alliance MADE the reavers. Not just made them, but also poisoned thirty million others along with it! Hundreds of millions of people raped, tortured and eaten alive, for what? A gorram science experiment? And now everyone in the universe knew it.

The people were going to riot. I knew it. The entire population will swell up, and the alliance… the alliance were Rú xíngshīzǒuròu bān zài shèngdàn jié qiánxī zhū. And gorramit, I would be on the front lines.

I produced my two vintage, twelve millimeter pistols from their vault. These I had much use for over the years so they were very care-worn, but they would do the job. My eleven gauge shotgun, on the other hand, I had very little use for over the past seven years since the rebellion fell, but I had kept it well oiled and cared for. Then came my masterpiece, the thing which had carried me through years and years of the war. Unarguably the best gun created by mankind, taken from the Alliance's top security vaults themselves. Priced at over twelve million platinum, it is the most beautiful thing in existence. I pulled it out of its vault, the pinnacle of weapon technology: an amorphous alloy framed, 600 decibel sonic cannon. It would tear all the flesh off of one's bones, smash granite to dust and knock aircrafts straight out of the sky. To put things into perspective, 200 decibels is the noise you would hear inside a tornado. At 300 decibels, one would drop dead from sheer noise. 600 decibels, soaring through the terraformed atmosphere reigning hell on enemies with a kill zone of up to 3000 yards. I liked to call her Charlotte.

I pulled all of my weapons into the small fighter ship along with all the money I had and a few day's rations. I set the ship to right where I wanted it to go, and started to watch the news. The world was in uproar, as I had predicted. Every screen in the universe had played the message, and everyone knew that the Alliance had created the things which had burned and raped entire populations just for the hell of it. And they knew why the Alliance did it, too, they did it to calm down everyone. To opiate the masses and stop any form of free thought. Yes sir, the entire Alliance was Rú xíngshīzǒuròu bān zài shèngdàn jié qiánxī zhū de gāowán.

I got so many messages on my holographic watch at once, I couldn't read them all. Every single war friend still alive were calling me and messaging me. I gave a whoop. This war would be long, bloody and I most likely won't make it out the other side, but gorramit I was kuánghuān bèi BACK!

The initial riots I stayed the hell away from, though. Unorganized violence from mostly civilians who had shot at a few rabbits and deer so they thought they were able to fight a war. The war would be fought, of course, but we had to secure resources. A base. An army. Ground to fight for, rations, ammo and spacecrafts. I had about a five day travel to make it to the rendezvous point, so I turned on the news and watched the world go to shit.

"Are we going to do it? Are we really going to try to take on the Alliance again after getting our asses handed to us seven years ago?"

There were mixed feelings among the old and new rebels. Many of the newcomers hadn't even touched a gun before, and there was already some drills being set up. The High Council, the leaders, all started discussing strategies and resources and shit, but I went down to the firing range and started practicing my aim. My two trusty pistols, pop, pop pop. In the heat of the battle, I would use up one, drop it and use another. Never keep any extra magazines on me, too much weight and too much time reloading. I would then, if I survived the fight, go back and retrieve them.

My buddy, Regina Walter, strode over to me as I was filling an automated moving target full of holes. "Hey, Michael," she greeted. "Still using those old Mā, I see?"

"Yeah, they hold some sentimental value. Got them from my mother, you see. What are you using these days?"

She gave me a slight smirk which told me she was proud of something. "Don't you wish you knew."

She was always proud of her guns. Each time she got a new one, she would carry herself with a swagger which made her look like she owned an entire solar system. First it was a submachine gun which could shoot without oxygen, then it was a twelve gauge shotgun with auto-aim sighting, and then it was two laser pistols which she tried to dual wield like in a first-person virtual game. Her firearms changed every six months or so during the war.

She changed boyfriends even faster than she changed guns, and her current one was making his way over to us. Her and I even went on a few dates before we lost interest. We mutually agree not to talk about those nights.

I spent the next few hours talking with old friends, helping newbies with shooting and military tactics, and listening in on the big boys's conversations. (Note: the big boys are what we call the members of the council). Pretty much everyone was furious about one thing: the fact that the Alliance tried covering up the reaver's origin.

That night, I went to sleep early. Despite the phenomenal propaganda weapon which will inevitably turn most of the population towards our side, the Alliance still had the superior firepower which bit us so deep during the first rebellion. But I had Charlotte.

The next few days were a blur. There were meals to pack, ammo to sort, squads to be organized, and (most importantly) a huge ruttin' city to be fortified. AS guns, mortars, barricades, bomb shielding. Heavy work, but worth it. This was it, the Alliance would be stopped and we would start a new, fair system of rule. Hopefully one which wouldn't force itself on every single gorram planet.

The first actual mission I went on was a recruitment one. Almost every planet was semi-organizing a "rebellion" of their own; if we all were together the Alliance would stand no chance.

Our three week flight through maddening, open space was to end at arguably the shittiest dump of a planet in the known universe. Called Alkazbar 6, the crime rate was so high that one would need to be carrying a small arsenal to take out the trash safely. With that being said, I was surprised when I learned that that was the place where the revolution was starting the fastest and the angriest, and even more so when I heard that we were to recruit them to our cause.

"This will be a problem."

"No shit"

I stood upon my pedestal, overlooking the rolling, raging crowd of new, vigorous rebel recruits. I didn't expect to pick up more than 500,000 soldiers off the entire gorram planet. We were dealing with over twelve million, all of whom were armed to the teeth with stolen or homemade weapons. I noticed at least twenty men and women with a welding tool attached to an old fashioned vehicle battery.

The problem was that there was not enough room on the transports. We had enough room for up to seven million, with rations enough for eleven million. We simply did not have that many spaceships.

The rebels were ready to go kick some major ass right there and now, and the feeling was mutual for all of us, but at least we could understand that these things take time. They take strategy. Sure, you have to act quickly, but one can't simply organize a game changing strategy overnight.

Eventually, we were able to call in more transports in here, but it sure was a hell of a struggle. I'm sure you don't want to sit through that, so let's just skip to when we actually got to the first gorram battle.

The first combat I actually wasn't in. I was put in charge of a group of fifty newbies who didn't know jackshit about war. There were a few competent shooters, but none of them actually saw combat. I made it my mission to whip them into shape with a rigorous training programme, but the combat I was itching to see was about 380,000 light years away. The big boys had sent a large force to secure a massive farming facility, some planet a long ways away. We won, too, shoved the Alliance's kneecaps up their asses. Major boost to our economy, rations and morale.

The first combat I saw was five days later. The balls out boldness of the big boys on this one shocks me even to this day. Me, my squad (who still didn't know jackshit about war, despite my best efforts) and 22,000 other squadrons of the same size flew out to a major Alliance mining planet, Reddlorde, only 300 light years from the capitol. One of the most central planets one could find, and we were waltzing right in.

The Alliance's and the rebel's fleets both met near Reddlorde, and resulted in a battle which I couldn't see a single gorram thing about. No windows, you see. Somehow we managed to make it onto the planet, and that is where the real excitement began.

I exited the transport first, with Charlotte disassembled in my pack and my eleven gauge in my hands. I leapt out of my ship into the open sun, and I could hear the bullets whistling by me. As my squadron exited the ship as well, I swiftly assessed my surroundings. A mountain range to the East, open desert all other directions. The other transports touched down farther than the eye could see in all directions. The debris from the space battle rained down like shooting stars in the sky. It looked like the sky was on fire.

I yelled a command to my men and charged to the mountains, where the bullets were coming from. I hurled a few 11 gauge slugs their direction, not in hopes of hitting them but in order to give them the noise of the bullets pinging off the rocks. Makes one stress, you see.

I saw the soldiers pour out of the mining facility, like ants out of a hill. It was then when I took cover and shot to kill. At that range I couldn't hit any singular targets with my shotgun, but I could hit the center mass. The noises of the gunfire rang out from both sides.

But all was not well. My squad, pumped on adrenaline and eager to kick ass, decided to say "qù nǐ" to all their training I had given them. Rushing into the hail of bullets gun blazing, they probably felt pretty badass. Until, that is, they felt the hail of bullets. I lost a good three quarters of my men that day.

I pulled one pistol out and shot from the cover of my rock. Let me tell you, it was hell. Heavy casualties from both directions.

The quarter of my group which wasn't gunned down had the wits to take cover. One of them, a woman named Quinn, was using the bodies of his comrades as sandbags.

I found my next bit of cover and set my eyes on it. I took a deep breath and sprinted, popping off rounds blindly with my pistol. I then set my eyes on the next thing and so on. Like this, the rebels advanced up the mountain.

I reached halfway up the mountain, and then I hit a spot of trouble. My trouble was in the form of no cover for one hundred yards, and enough soldiers to blow my brains off even with the thousands of other rebels. I had run out of ammo for my pistols at that point, and they were stashed under two separate bushes. "Alright," I muttered, "let's show these shǔbiāo mā tā mā de zhuāng what we can do, shall we?"

I slipped my backpack off and assembled my pride, my joy, my baby. My Charlotte.

Damn, we took that mountain. We took it out of their rutting hands, we did. Like the warriors we were. Little did we know how soon we would get our asses kicked.


End file.
